The Storm Rises
by Dwarfiarty
Summary: Marxs has worked for RED co for three years, and now a new power is rising. Will Marxs be consumed by this oncoming storm? Or will he embrace it?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! (Well maybe one or two,). It is I! Dwarfiarty! I have uploaded yet another story. (Well...it's only my second one.) I am proud to present my Team Fortress 2 story: The Storm Rises**

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As Marxs ran around inside the BLU base with their intelligence strapped to their back, he wondered for what felt like the hundredth time, why the Hell he'd joined RED co. in the first place. So far this round he'd dealt with what seemed like an invincible scout, (annoying as all get out as well), an _**incredibly**_ drunk demoman and a sentry gun and it's over protective Engineer. All the while trying to avoid being shot, stabbed or otherwise maimed enough for him to respawn.

"I've got the bloody intel!" The young rifleman yelled across 2Fort, "Cover me!" Not waiting long enough to see if anyone heard him, Marxs continued to run across the bridge that separated him from his side. Narrowly dodging a BLU Demo's bomb, Marxs grinned through his bandanna as he glanced over his shoulder: Those idiots would never catch him. As soon as these words formed in his mind, he instantly regretted thinking them. He heard the Spy uncloak, and immediately did a three-sixty turn only to find the French assassin right in front of him.

"Surprise!" he grinned wickedly, pulling his knife out and bringing it down towards Marxs' chest.

Dodging the blow, Marxs brought out his own knife, which was considerably larger than the Spy's.

The spy laughed, "So ze boy has 'is own knife eh?" He said, his accent oozing over every word, "Let us see if 'e can use eet!"

Before either mercenary could move however, a shot rang out and the Frenchmen's head exploded.

"Chew on that piss 'ead!" Yelled the RED sniper, "You're clear Rifleman!'

"Thanks Sniper!" Shouted Marxs sprinting through the doors of his base. On the way inside he nearly crashed into the scout, but the young Bostonian merely slid through his legs.

"Oh yeah!" He shouted smirking cockily, "That was quite the move right Rile ol' buddy?" Before the British mercenary could respond he was interrupted by another voice.

"GO, GO, GO!" Roared the Heavy, pushing past Marxs, "We vill cover you leetle Riflman!"

"Ja!" The Medic said from behind the Heavy, Medigun ready, "Schnell Herr Rifleman!"

The young mercenary nodded and ran past his teammates. Dodging the other members of his team, Marxs winced as he heard a collective yell and an explosion from behind him. Ignoring the sounds of an everyday occurrence, Marxs ran into the dimly lit room where his team's intelligence was. Grinning, the mercenary threw the BLU intelligence into the capture point.

"VICTORY!" The cool voice of the Administrator said, and with that Marxs walked leisurely out of the dark room and into the light of the day. Cracking his knuckles and rubbing them on his shirt as if he was polishing them.

""It's a good day to be me," he smirked before heading back towards his base.

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Entering the main part of the base, Marxs was greeted by a large bear hug from the Heavy. Grinning still, the young Rifleman patted his large Russian friend on the back.

"You did vell!" he roared, his voice filled with happiness, "You win again!"

"Indeed," a French accent said from behind Marxs, "Exceptional! But vhat did we expect?"

"Thanks Jean," Chuckled Marxs as he was let down by the Heavy, shaking the Spy's hand, "Couldn't have done it if hadn't stopped that sentry,"

Jean shrugged, "Eet is my job non?" he chuckled.

Marxs smiled at his old friend, "Hey listen, I'll be late to our little party, I've got to take a shower,"

Jean raised a hand, "Say no more Mon ami…please,"

The Rifleman chuckled and made his way down the hall to his room, grabbing a new set of clothes along the way. On the way to the showers, he bumped into the Engineer who was in the room next to him.

"Hey Rifleman, how you doin'?" smiled the southerner.

"Just fine, and you?" Marxs asked walking backwards now, trying to make his way to stake claim to the shower before anyone else could, but trying to make conversation with the Engineer at the same time.

"Fine, fine, just about to unwrap myself a box I got in the mail from RED co." The engineer said, excitement in his voice, "See if I got myself a new wrench, or gun, or maybe even a new hardhat,"

"Maybe," smiled Marxs, "Hey I've got to go take a shower…"

"Oh! Right! See you 'round Rifle!"

Marxs smiled, waving to the Engineer, and continued to make his way to the shower. Opening the metal door, the Rifleman sighed. It'd been a long day, and he deserved this small time to himself. Undressing himself, the young mercenary turned the water to boiling hot. He'd never been fond of the heat, but it was the only way to truly enjoy a shower. He grabbed the shampoo bottle that had been bought by Jean, (some fancy French brand), and squirted its contents onto his head. As he ran his hands through his thick, yet organized hair, he began to think. Something was amiss with RED co, something he couldn't place. Some might think he was crazy, but Marxs had gotten these gut feelings before, and they never were wrong. Marxs sighed and leaned against the wall of the shower; this wasn't right. He could feel tension from an unknown source, feel something building. Whispers of people being fired left right and center, Mercs being transferred for no tactical reason at all, and then…that word…the word that struck fear into the hearts of every high ranking RED and BLU official: Rebellion.

Marxs turned the water off. Rubbing his hands over his face, the young RED co employee decided to keep his mind off of business that he had no reason getting into. Stepping out of the shower Marxs sighed in relief, he had needed that: Desperately. It was a struggle to get a decent shower so soon after a battle, but it seemed as if the team was giving Marxs an all access pass to the showers thanks to his win today. Pulling on his boxers and pants, the British mercenary looked up at himself in the mirror. His hair, usually kept combed over, was all a frizz, making looking wild and matted. Laughing quietly, the mercenary attempted to comb it with his fingers, which he discovered after a few seconds of trying, was impossible. Opening the medicine cabinet, Marxs grabbed Bruce's comb and ran it through his hair, taming the wild beast that lived on top of hi skull. Satisfied with its appearance, the Englishman threw on his shirt and tied his bandanna around his neck, and after gingerly placing his beloved beret on top his head, walked out of the Bathroom.

Walking down the hall, Marxs made his way past the Soldier, Heavy and Demo.

"'Ey lad," The Demo said his one good eye twinkling, "Good win today,"

"Demoman ees right," Heavy said nodding, "Leetle man did good today!"

"Thanks guys," Marxs said beaming, "I appreciate- Soldier, what the hell are you doing?"

Heavy and Demo turned around to see what Marxs was looking at: Soldier, for reasons only known to himself, was squeezing a brick in his big meaty, strong hands.

"This brick is obviously a communist listening device!" The American shouted, still trying to rip the brick apart, "It has a "S" on it! That could stand for Stalin! Or Soviet!"

"Or stupid," The Demoman said quietly.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

"Nutin'"

"Well...good luck destroying that...listening device soldier, see you guys." Marxs said one eyebrow raised.

Finally making his way outside, Marxs was greeted by the very mercenary he was looking for.

"Marxs! Finally made it did ya?" Bruce said, sniper rifle in one hand.

"Of course! Think I forgot about our usual victory drink?" Marxs said pulling his friend into a one armed hug, "Ye of little faith!"

Bruce laughed, setting down his rifle, "No, no, I knew'd ya show up sooner or later, speaking of showin' up, ya seen Jean?"

"No, I haven't," Marxs said, sighing in frustration, "He's supposed to be here already!"

""O is to say zat I am not already?" A voice said into Marxs' ear.

Jumping and letting several curse words out, the Rifleman turned around to see a doubled over and laughing Jean, whose laugh was echoed by Bruce.

"I take it you knew he was here?" Marxs said slightly irritated.

"Of course," Jean said, regaining his composure, "You were taking too long so..." he shrugged.

"Whatever," Marxs said waving his hand dismissively. "Did you bring the stuff?"

"Of course!"Jean said reaching inside his coat and producing three bottles of beer, "Voila!"

"Ah, brilliant!" Bruce smiled, taking one of the bottles Jean proffered to him.

"Thanks mate," Marxs said, grinning at the French Assassin, also taking one.

The three opened their bottles and raised them.

"To another successful battle!" Marxs said beaming.

"To many more!" Bruce added.

"To us!" Jean added before clinking his glass against his comrade's.

The three mercenaries drank in silence, enjoying each others company.

"Would anyone care for a cigarette?" Jean said pulling out his case, "I am providing."

"I'll take one," Bruce nodded, taking a cigarette from Jean's outstretched hand, "Thanks Jean."

"Marxs mon ami," Jean said a she lit the Australian's smoke, "Would you care for one?"

"I've got my own supply," Marxs said pulling out a case similar to Jean's and taking one out.

Marxs lit his smoke and leaned back against the wall near which they were standing. All three took a long drag from their cigarettes, blowing out puffs of smoke at the same time.

"So,"Marxs said knocking ashes from his cigarette and taking a sip from his beer, "What's new between you two?"

Bruce shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette, "Not much, me mum and dad are alroit, or as alroit as they can be...still not supportive of the job,"

"Zat is to be expected though,"Jean said patting the sniper's shoulder sympathetically, "Not every parent expects their child to grow up to kill."

"Aye, he's right," Marxs said finishing his cigarette, pulling out another, "My parents still aren't entirely thrilled that I'm a hired mercenary." Marxs took another drink of his beer, "What bout you Jean? Anything new?"

"Eh, ze same as usual," Jean said shaking his head, "I 'ave 'eard rumors zough," he said talking quietly, forcing Bruce and Marxs to lean in Jean's direction, "Zat we are to gain anzoer team member."

"What?" Marxs said, his eyes widening, "Why the hell would they do that? We already outnumber the BLU team by one thanks to me."

"Not only that, but who else could they add?" Bruce added, sounding confused, "We already have a spoi, demoman, me, rifleman, maydic, engineer, scout, soldier and pyro."

"I would not know," Jean said shrugging, and zat mon ami's iz a rare occurrence."

The three mercenaries chuckled and fell into silence. Marxs though, while putting on a face of mere curiosity was thinking furiously. Why would RED co add yet another player in this giant chess match? Why risk BLU one upping them? Was this even going to be a man with a mind of his own or was he going to be a pawn to RED co? Once again that feeling in his gut returned, and he couldn't help but feel this was in response to the recent firings of mercenaries. What if- No. Marxs shook his head. One thing at a time. This was just a rumor, and that was it. They had gotten no messages from the Administrator, and no indications from RED co that any person would be joining the team. If a person joined the team, he would follow his gut then. And he knew Jean and Bruce would support him.

Looking at his two friends he smiled. All three had known each other for three years, and had hit it off almost instantly. Well, Marxs and Bruce had, Jean took some getting used to but in the end became a vital part of the trio. Marxs was the youngest of the three but was by no means less respected by the other two. Bruce came up a few years in front of him and was like a father figure to the young mercenary. Jean, the oldest of the three also shared some father like qualities to Marxs.

Sighing, Marxs threw his second cigarette to the ground, "Well gents," Marxs said walking towards the large metal door to the Ready Up room. "I think I'm gonna turn in for tonight."

"Alroit, G'night mate!" Bruce said patting the young man's shoulder.

"Sleep well mon ami!" Jean smiled.

Walking inside, Marxs un-clipped his belt from his waist, removing his knife. Opening his locker, the rifleman put his sidearm into inside before taking his rifle from its sling on his shoulder. After placing his gun inside his locker and locking it up again, Marxs made his way down the hall to his room. Opening the door to his room Marxs removed his beloved beret and placed it on the dresser next to his bed. Sighing in frustration, Marxs began to pace the room. Ever since the war with Gray Mann started, RED and BLU had changed. But why? Why was there this feeling of unrest? His team hadn't been touched by transfers or sackings yet, thank God, but Marxs feared it was only a matter of time. Something was going on...and Marxs couldn't figure it out what it was for the life of him.

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**Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be out soon! I would like to thank Divergency (FANTASTIC writer) for helping me develop Marxs. Please read her story "Wherever we Go", It is by far, one of the best TF2 Fanfics you will read. **


	2. Chapter 2

**WOO! Second chapter! Yeah! WOOHOO!...Is anyone besides me excited about this? No? Alright then. I wrote this chaoter while listening to Bon Jovi and Queen. SO if you don't like it...it's their fault.**

**Review please!**

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"RED Co. IS UNDER ATTACK! PREPARE TO DEFEND THE INTELLIGENCE!"

Marxs' eyes flew open as the voice of Administrator spoke through the loud speaker in his room, interrupting his slumber. Jumping out of bed, he began to scramble around the room, grabbing his clothes he had haphazardly thrown off sometime the night before. As he threw on his shirt and pulled up his pants, a small ping of panic shot through his body as he was unable to find his much loved beret. Finding it under his bandanna, Marxs gave a sigh of relief and placed it gingerly on his head. And after typing his bandanna around his neck, the young rifleman out of his quarters and towards the ready up room. Much to his surprise, he found himself to be the last person to arrive.

"'Ey what took ya so long boyo?" Demoman said as he loaded his grenade launcher, "Usually yer 'ere 'fore any of oos."

"Just getting dressed old man," replied Marxs, putting his ammo belt around his left shoulder, "I got hot last night."

"Well if it takes you **that** long to get dressed then next time I want you here NAKED!" shouted Soldier who was unfortunately right next to Marxs' ear.

"Yes sir." Marxs replied evenly, knowing better to engage in a shouting match with the American.

After putting his rifle strap around his right shoulder, and clipping on his knife to his belt, Marxs made his way over to Jean and Bruce who were over in the corner. Jean appeared to be calibrating his cloaking watch, while Bruce was adjusting the string on his Huntsman.

"Morning gentleman," Marxs said sitting on the left of Jean, "And how are we this morning?"

"Fine and dandy," Bruce smiled, "Excited about trying out this little beauty."

"Je suis bon," Jean said no longer calibrating his watch, now twirling his knife in his hands. "I am good, I am debating whezer to try out zis new knife or not..."

"I would try it out," Marxs said inserting a clip into his rifle, "What are its effects?"

"When I backstab someone, I take zeir form," Jean said, looking at the ornate knife, "But I will not be able to cloak."

"Oi'd go for it," Bruce said shrugging, "BLU isn't exactly the brightest anyway."

Jean shrugged and nodded in agreement before standing up and straightening his suit. "When ees this battle supposed to start anyway?"

Marxs shrugged, "I have no id-" He began before the administrator spoke again.

"MISSION BEGINS IN SIXTY SECONDS!"

The room suddenly erupted in talking. Heavy had gone over to the Medic and patted him on the shoulder.

"We go together Doctor." the large Russian said smiling at his friend.

"DEMOMAN, YOU WILL HELP ME DEFEDN THE INTELLIGENCE!" Soldier shouted to the Scotsman who was right next to him.

"What the hell did'cha think I was gonna do?" The Demoman said irritably, "I always defend the bloody Intel with ya!"

As the two Mercs bickered, Marxs stood up and positioned himself near the door, pulling his bandanna up over his mouth and nose. Cracking his neck the young mercenary readied himself in a running position.

"MISSION BEGINS IN TEN SECONDS!"

Jean and Bruce stood next to Marxs, Jean on his left, Bruce on the right.

"FIVE, FOUR…"

Marxs' finger glided over his trigger. He was ready.

"…TWO, ONE!"

The door opened. There was a collective yell as all the mercenaries, including himself, let out a battle cry. Scout was the first one out, rocketing around to the right corner, heading for the bridge, followed closely by Jean, Solider and Pyro. Engineer made his way down towards the intel room followed closely by Demoman who was muttering something about Soldier being an 'American hypocrite'.

"Good luck out there Rifleman!" Bruce said making his way towards the battlements, "Maybe you'll outshoot me today!"

"Go piss in a jar old man!" Marxs said making his way to the bridge.

Bruce gave a bark of laughter and waved to his friend before disappearing around a corner. Marxs smiled from underneath his covering and jumped down the stairs that led to the bridge that divided the BLU side from the RED side. When he finally made it he was greeted by the sight of his Demo exploding into large chunks. Not bothering to wipe the blood off his face, Marxs took aim at his nearest target, in this case a medic healing a pyro, and fired. The BLU German's head exploded in a cloud of red, his body collapsing in a heap. Taking aim at the BLU's dismayed Pyro's heart, Marxs fired again, dropping him. Marxs scanned the other side for targets before settling on their Sniper. Taking careful aim, Marxs took a deep breath and let it out slowly…when an arrow went through his target's head. The Rifleman sighed in frustration. Damn Bruce and his skill for shooting at the most inopportune times.

Just as he was about to choose another target however, the young mercenary saw too late the BLU Soldier's rocket headed straight for him. He awoke with a start in the Ready Up room. Sighing, Marxs ran out the room and was delighted to see a clear shot across the bridge to the enemy side.

"SNIPER COVER ME!" he yelled racing towards the bridge.

But he hadn't made it even to the halfway point when he was stopped by something _completely_ unexpected. Blocking his path was a young man, about his age, wearing similar clothing to him and carrying a rifle. But unlike Marxs, the man was not wearing a hat. Marxs could see several bags under his eyes and the smell that came off of him was _horrible_. Marxs didn't know whether he was to laugh or cry. _This _was BLU's rifleman? The man paid to counter him? Marxs shook his head, scoffing as put away his rifle and pulled out his knife.

"Alright chap," he said to his BLU counterpart, twirling his knife in hand, "I'm giving you one chance to run and quit this job. Refuse my offer, and I'll kill you every round. I won't go for anyone else; I'll make your life Hell."

The BLU rifleman's eyes widened, but nonetheless he pulled out his own knife and made a jab towards Marxs, narrowly missing his shirt. In one swift motion however, the RED rifleman grabbed his adversaries arm with his left hand and elbowed the BLU in the face with his right arm. While the less skilled Rifleman's head snapped back in pain, Marxs brought his knife down, severing his opponents arm. Not giving the BLU Merc any time to react, Marxs used his foot to pull out the other Rifleman's legs out from under him. Marxs walked over to his beaten and bloody opponent, pulling out his rifle as he did so. Stepping on the one armed Merc's chest, he pointed his gun at his head.

"I warned you." Was all he said before pulling the trigger.

As soon as the man was dead, Marxs unceremoniously stepped on his face and ran across the bridge. When he made it to the other side however he was once again interrupted, this time by the Administrator.

"DEFEND THE INTELLIGENCE! DO NOT CAPTURE THE ENEMIY'S!" Her sharp voice said over the din of battle.

"What?!" Marxs said his arms dropping in disappointment, "Why the hell not?!" He got no response.

Mumbling under his breath, the Rifleman bolted for his side of the bridge. Looking up at Bruce, both of them gave each other a look of complete and utter confusion. Since when do they just defend the damned briefcase?

"Rifleman! Behind you!" Bruce's voice said interrupting his thoughts.

Swinging around, Marxs found himself face to face with the BLU spy.

"Surprise again!" the Frenchman said bringing his knife down. Marxs closed his eyes prepared for the blow that would send him to the respwan. But he didn't feel the usual sensation that came with respwaning. So opening his eyes slowly he was surprised to see the BLU spy just standing there, smirk on his face.

"Well?" Marxs said, somewhat irritated, "Get on with it!"

The BLU Spy suddenly let out a snort of laughter, and to Marxs' shock and relief was covered in a cloud of _red_ smoke.

"You bastard," Marxs said laughing.

"Did you really forget about me?" Jean said straightening his suit and stepping over the corpse of his BLU counterpart.

"I did, I really- GET DOWN!" Marxs yelled yanking his friend down to the ground as a bullet ricocheted near the spot where Jean's head was only a second ago.

"Keep down Rifleman!" a voice said from behind him, "I've got this!"

Marxs looked around to see the Demoman with his stick bomb launcher in one hand and the Eyelander in the other. The Scotsman gave a one eyed wink to his teammate before detonating the bombs underneath him, flinging him across the battlefield.

"FREEDOM!" he said as he flew through the air and landing on the BLU teams battlements. Rushing around a corner and out of sight, Marxs heard the distant scream of the BLU team's Sniper. Getting up and brushing himself off, Jean extended a hand to his friend.

"Merci," he said smiling pulling Marxs up, "How long do zink zat we will have to hold out against them?"

"I don't know, this hasn't happened before has it?" Marxs said gesturing Jean to follow him as the rifleman made for the door that lead inside their base.

"No, eet ees somezing I've never 'eard of." Jean said shaking his masked face.

"Either their intelligence is worthless…or…" Marxs said, suddenly realizing something.

"Or our intelligence ees too valuable to risk losing." Jean said concurring with the young Merc.

Giving each other a look, the two were suddenly interrupted by Bruce racing down the stairs, looking slightly panicked.

"Mates, they're comin' back, and they're keepin' me pinned down," He said breathing heavily, "Their Maydic…has an Ubercharge ready."

The three exchanged looks. "Listen, get everyone to fall back towards the Intel room, we can hold them there," Marxs said walking backwards, "I'll go get Engie to move his gear up!"

Running up the stairs, Marxs was nearly knocked over by the Heavy.

"Leetle Rifleman should be more careful!" He said catching his Marxs holding him up, "Come Doktor! We must crush leetle baby team!"

"Wait, you guys!" Marxs said pushing on the Heavy's stomach, "We need to hold here, the entire BLU team is coming up in force! They have an Uber ready!"

"Zen ve vill hold here!" The Medic said nodding at Marxs, "Danke herr Rifleman!"

Marxs didn't respond for he'd already run down the ramp to the Intel room. Racing around the corner, he nearly plowed into Pyro, who was waiting around the corner, ready to Spy check anyone who came around the corner.

"They need you up there mate, BLU's coming." Marxs said before being doused in fire by his masked teammate. Sighing and patting his friend on the shoulder Marxs ran into the Intel room.

"Engie!" the Rifleman said from the doorway, "We need you to move the gear up, BLU's launching an assault!"

"Alrighty then," the Southerner said, pressing a button on his sentry, shrinking it and placing it into his tool box, "Let's go!"

Marxs nodded and raced back up the ramp to his teammates. To his relief, it seemed as if Jean and Bruce had spread the word to the other members of the team. But to his despair it seemed as though it was a lost cause: The BLU Demo, Soldier and Pyro had made quick work of their Scout and Bruce, and Jean only managed to kill the BLU Demo before being burned alive by the BLU Pyro. Aiming at the Pyro's head he pulled his trigger. Not waiting to see the pyromaniac's body fall to the ground, Marxs took aim at the BLU Soldier, but found it unnecessary to fire when the RED Heavy riddled the crazed BLU with bullets fired from Natashca.

"Is that all of them?" Scout said who had somehow gotten next to Marxs without his knowledge.

"I zink zat ve kiiled everyone except ze Spy, Medic and Heavy." Medic said looking warily towards the point where the BLU team had been coming from only moments earlier.

"I wouldn't worry about da Spy," the scout said smirking, "He ain't a problem."

Marxs looked at the Bostonian for a full three seconds before blowing his head off. Looking down at his corpse, his suspicions were confirmed when blue smoke encased the body revealing the missing BLU spy.

"Well that's the Spy," Marxs said inserting a new clip into his rifle, "Who's ready to go Heavy hunting?"

"Zere is no need," A voice said from somewhere in the team's vicinity, "I took care of him, and 'is 'andler"

The team turned around frantically before seeing Jean decloak in their midst, calmly lighting a cigarette.

"You killed them both?" Marxs said grinning, "Brilliant!"

"Indeed," the Spy said, straightening his tie, "Now we must move quickly, ze will be respawning soon-"

"VICTORY!" The voice of the Administrator said, igniting cheers on the RED side.

"YES!" Heavy said thrusting his fist into the air, then reaching around and picking up the Medic.

"Yes, yes Heavy ve von," Medic said uncomfortably, patting him on the shoulder, "You can put me down now."

Marxs laughed, and while the rest of his team made a mad dash for the BLU base, the rifleman just stood there, smiling. Reaching inside his cargo pocket he pulled out his cigarette case and choosing one at random, put it into his mouth. Pulling out a cheap disposable lighter, he lit his smoke and sat down taking a long drag. That was close. Too close. But at least he found out some things that put him at ease. Like the fact that the rumors around a new teammate were not about RED Co., but BLU Co., and a fat lot of good it did them. Laughing at the dismal display that his BLU counterpart portrayed, the Rifleman was interrupted by the sound of a teleporter being activated. Turning his head he was surprised to find the Engineer working on a Teleporter exit.

"What are you up to Engie?" Marxs asked curiously, knocking a few ashes from his cigarette.

"I just got a call from Ms. Pauling," The Engineer said without looking up, "She's comin' to pick up our Intel."

"What?" The Rifleman said confused, "The last time she did that it was-" He suddenly paled.

"It was what?" Engie said looking up finally.

"The last time she picked up Intel, Gray Mann was building a robot army." Marxs said, his cigarette forgotten.

Getting up quickly, the Rifleman sprinted down the ramp into the Intel room. Grabbing the Briefcase, he grabbed the latches and flipped then up, unlocking the briefcase. He stopped suddenly. Should he open it? Was he overreacting? Taking a deep breath Marxs simply decided to corner Pauling and confront her about the Case's contents. Walking back up to where the telporter, Marxs was pleased to see the familiar form of Ms. Pauling, conversing with Engie and another person dressed completely in red. Marxs ignored the stranger completely; he was too focused on talking to the Administrator's assistant.

"Hey there Ms. Pauling." Marxs said smiling genuinely.

The young woman turned around and beamed waving, "Hey Rifleman, how've you been?"

"Fine," Marxs said pulling out his cigarette case and inserting a new one into his mouth then lighting it, "Oh, where are my manners? Do you want a cigarette Ms. Pauling?"

She sighed, "No Rifleman. As I've told you and Spy a thousand times, I don't smoke." She said, smiling somewhat.

"Ah, well," Marxs said, smiling and blowing some smoke away from the group, "More for me. Who is your friend?"

Marxs finally turned his attention to the stranger and to his surprise he wasn't what he expected at all. In fact it wasn't even a he. The woman in front of Marxs couldn't be much younger than him; she was clad in a mini skirt and T-Shirt, with a baseball cap with headphones donning her head. In her hands was a gun that looked nearly identical to the Scout's. Slowly Marxs put two and two together.

"Marxs this is your new teammate." Ms. Pauling said.

"Hey, I'm Rachel." The Girl said sticking her hand out towards Marxs, "I'm gonna be your new scout."

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**Thanks guys for reading! My next chapter will hopefully be coming out in a few days. Again, I thank you and I thank Divergency for helping me with this story. **


	3. Chapter 3

**This one took me two days to write...I have no idea why...I hope you all enjoy this new chapter! **

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It's been three days since the surprise visit of Ms. Pauling and the arrival of Rachel, and Marxs _still _couldn't believe he didn't ask what was in the briefcase. Concerning the new arrival however, he was suspicious of RED Co.'s overall intentions for sending another Merc. It made little sense tactically; his team did well with ten mercenaries, adding another would be, in Marxs' opinion, redundant. Overkill. It might even bring BLU Co.'s attention to 2Fort, risking BLU Co. to hire more Mercenaries or at least transfer them here. All things aside, Rachel was a decent scout, and worked well with the team. Marxs hadn't really talked with her, so he couldn't tell what her personality was, but from what he's heard from Jean, she was a lot like Scout.

Rachel's arrival had also sparked some amusing action in the base. When Soldier found out that their new teammate was a girl, ("A short pansy." As he put it), he quietly walked out looking both saddened and immensely disgusted and blew his brain out with his shotgun, only to respawn a moment later. It took both Demoman and Medic to persuade him not to attempt it again much to the team's amusement and Rachel's confusion. The arrival of a new Scout had also sparked many entertaining fights between Scout and Rachel. The most recent of them had resulted in an all-out fist fight between the two, which was won by Rachel to the team's amazement, and had taken Bruce and Marxs to untangle the two. After a while though the two's bickering had become annoying, for it would sometimes go for hours on end, giving everyone headaches.

But at this moment there was peace, for today was the one day of the week when they didn't need to fight the BLU team and everyone was taking advantage of it. Jean, Demo and Soldier were playing a game of poker, while in the other room Heavy, Scout and Bruce had fallen asleep to some TV show. Pyro was entertaining himself by running around the room with his arms above his head wearing the Engineer's hardhat while the southerner himself was the chasing the fire loving maniac, and Medic was in his lab messing around with his Medigun that he received from RED Co. Meanwhile Marxs himself was outside, smoking as he usually did on these nights. He loved his team, God knows, but he craved being alone.

Taking a look at the night sky, Marxs sighed as he took a drag from his ninth cigarette. God how he hated them, but they helped pass the time for him. Anyways, before every battle he would have Medic clear up the smoke in his lungs, but unfortunately his Medigun didn't remove the nicotine in his system. Finishing his cigarette, the Rifleman rifled through his pocket and pulled out a small portable music player. Smiling fondly at it he also took out a pair of headphones and plugged them in. Turning it on, he played the only song that he had on it. The music started out slow, a guitar playing by itself, a haunting sound, before being joined suddenly by drums and bass.

"My shadow's the only one that walks beside me; my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating," Marxs sang quietly, his voice matching the pitch of Billie Joe, "Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me, till then I walk alone."

As Green Day played in his ears, Marxs' attention was suddenly turned towards the door opening and Rachel walking out.

"Hey," Marxs said smiling at her, "How's it going?"

"Good," Rachel said leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the door as Marxs was, "Scout's just bein' a dick."

Marxs laughed, pausing his music, "He can certainly be one at times, you just got to get used to him."

"Whatever," She huffed, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear, "Whatta you doin' out here?"

"Taking some time away from the team," The Rifleman said shrugging, "Believe it or not we get on each other's nerves at times."

Rachel laughed, a pleasant sound. "Yeah, I can see that," She said nodding, "What were ya listening to?"

"Green Day," Marxs said waving his now dormant music player in his hand at her, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams, only song I have on this thing."

"Wait," Rachel said flabbergasted, "You like punk rock?"

"What?" The male Mercenary said grinning, "Just because I'm English I can't enjoy Rock and Roll? We gave you the Beatles for God's sake!"

"It's not that," Rachel said rolling her eyes, "It's just you seem so…I don't know…civilized?"

Marxs gave a bark of laughter, "I kill people for a living Rachel," He said scratching the side of his face, "I'm the last person I would call 'Civilized', hell, I even listen to heavy metal when I can."

"Really?"

"Of course! I have to give you Americans credit for one thing: You can make some good music."

The two chuckled and went silent, leaving each other to their own thoughts. In the meantime, Marxs lit yet another cigarette taking a drag. Rachel looked sideways at her silent companion and wrinkled her nose.

"How can you stand those things?" She said shaking her head, "I stopped at the first one."

Marxs just chuckled, shaking his head. It took a special breed to be a smoker, and only one out of a hundred could become a chain smoker like him.

"You know this is the first time I think we've actually talked," Rachel said suddenly, "I wasn't exactly sure what you were like."

"And now?" Marxs said giving her a sideways glance.

"You're cool, it's just…I thought you'd be…scary." She responded somewhat awkwardly.

"Do I really look worse than I think I do?" Marxs said smirking.

"Nah, it's just in battle you're…terrifying."

"I'm supposed to be." Marxs said knocking ashes off of his cigarette.

"But scary people are supposed to stay scary," Rachel said, "Not you though."

Marxs repressed a snort. If only she knew what went on inside his head, what he'd done, what he dreamed about every night. He shook his head, 'You're not that person anymore' he tried to remind himself consciously.

"You got a family?" The Englishman said, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

"Yeah," The Femscout said nodding, "A Ma and three brothers."

Marxs whistled in appreciation, "That must be quite a woman putting up with three boys, but to deal with you…" he said grinning mischievously.

"Screw you!" Rachel said laughing and throwing a rock at his arm.

"No I'm kidding," the Rifleman said grinning, repressing the urge to light another smoke, "I'm sure you're a _joy _to live with."

Rachel scoffed, "Whateva'," She said shaking her head, "What about you? You got a family?"

Marxs looked down at his feet, "I don't know." He said simply.

"Whatta mean ya don't know?" Rachel asked confused.

"I ran away from home at the age of seven," The young Merc said emotionlessly, "I didn't look back, and I honestly don't know whether my parents are alive or not."

"Oh," The Femscout said quietly, "I'm sorry, why'd you…"

"Leave?" Marxs said looking at her sideways, "Because everything I did wasn't good enough, every move I made wasn't right, I was constantly told I wasn't going amount to anything."

Both went quiet, during which Marxs lit another cigarette. The young Mercenary silently struggled to find a topic to switch to.

"You got a girl?" Rachel blurted, breaking Marxs' thoughts.

"Well…no" He said turning his head to look at her, "Why? You interested?" He said, grin spreading onto his face.

"Wha- No!" Rachel spluttered, "Screw you!"

Marxs threw his head back laughing, "I'm just messing with you," he said winking at her, "You are so easy to fool."

Rachel just scoffed and shook her head. Marxs grinned, finishing his eleventh cigarette and throwing it to the ground.

"I'm going ahead back inside," The Rifleman said, "Have a good night."

"Yeah you too Rifleman." Rachel said smiling.

As he opened the door to the base, Marxs shut it just as quickly dodging a flying beer bottle. He took a deep breath and opened the door once again and walked inside. It was pure, unadulterated, chaos. Weapons were thrown all over the floor, and every member of the team was in on the action. Heavy had his hand's wrapped tightly around Jean's throat and was banging his head into a wall, while yelling something about all Frenchmen being babies. Demo had fashioned his beer bottle into some sort of shank and was attempting to shiv Soldier with it, while the crazed American was yelling something about his one eyed teammate being an Englishman in a dress. Engineer had successfully wrangled his hat back from the Pyro and was attempting to keep his masked friend from reaching his flamethrower. In the corner Bruce and scout were having an all-out fist fight that seemed to be going in Bruce's favor, for he sported less cuts than Scout. The only person in the room being _somewhat _rational was Medic, who was sitting back observing the whole debacle, but was also laughing like a madman.

Marxs was unsure _how_ this had happened in the course of at least twenty minutes. He was also unsure whether he should laugh or walk out of the room and keep smoking or to join the fight. His decision was made when an apple hit him in the face coming from an unknown direction. Sighing, the Rifleman grabbed Jean's pistol which was the closest weapon to him, and fired it at the ceiling. Everyone instantly stopped what they were doing and looked at Marxs.

The young Merc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, "Dear Lord I leave for twenty minutes and all hell breaks loose!" He said trying to keep in a laugh, "What the hell happened?!"

The room was silent for a moment.

"It was spy's fault!" Came Soldier's voice, "The French toad cheated at cards!"

"I will say eet again: I DID NOT DO ANYTHING!"

"Don't you lie to me you sharp dressed toad!"

"Then why is Heavy beating him up and not you or Demo?!" Marxs asked confused.

"He called Heavy fat!" The Russian said not loosening his grip on Jean's throat.

As the four bickered over details and who started the whole fight, Demo came up behind Soldier and finally stabbed the rocket firing madman. There was a brief second of silence, and then the team resumed its fighting. Jean managed to slip Heavy's grip and had stabbed the larger man in the arm. The Soldier had made his way back into the room, but instead of going for the Demo he made a mad dash in the Scout's direction, yelling like a maniac. Sighing in defeat, Marxs saw no alternative and made a bull run for the Demo, tackling the larger man off the table. Smiling like a madman, Marxs began to punch the alcoholic Scotsman like there was no tomorrow. But before he could do any serious damage, the Rifleman was tackled himself by an unknown assailant. Finding himself on his back Marxs was surprised to find Rachel on top of him grinning.

"'Sup Rifle?" She said before clocking him in the jaw.

Marxs got over his shock quickly and grinned back, head butting his teammate in the nose. While she was reeling back in pain the Rifleman clocked her in the jaw, forcing her to fall off of him. Getting up and looking around the room, he found that Bruce was trying to make his was over to Demo man. Grinning mischievously, Marxs ran at his friend, tackling his best friend off his feet. Punching his friend in the chest, Marxs began to laugh with glee. This was the most fun the team had had in months. Sure they had fights at least every other month, but every time they did it was great fun. Getting up off of Bruce, the young Merc got off the ground and decided to see where everyone was. Seeing Scout being beaten the hell out of by Soldier the Rifleman laughed: Soldier had waiting to do that to the Bostonian for months. But before he could observe anyone else's progress he was tackled once more by Rachel. Her nose was bleeding profusely and she was sporting a cut on her lip.

"I was wondering when you'd show up again," Marxs said getting into a boxers stance, "Ready to finish our little spat?"

"You know it," winked the Femscout, "Come and get me you bastard."

The Rifleman smiled widely and swung at his new friend, making contact with her already broken nose. Surprisingly, it apparently didn't faze her for she swung back almost immediately making contact with Marxs' jaw. The young Merc drew back in pain, as he felt blood rush into his mouth. Feeling inside his mouth for the source with his lounge, he was surprised when he felt something hard and small in the side of his mouth. Reaching inside Marxs gave a bark of laughter when he pulled out a tooth.

"Good hit," The Englishman said massaging the side of his face, "Want to go team up on the Heavy?"

"Sure," Said Rachel shrugging, "Sounds fun."

The two gave each other a grin before rushing for the large Russian. _This _was quality time for Mercenaries.

* * *

**WOO! I hope to get Chapter four up and running within a few days, till then...Good day. That's it. All I have to say**


	4. Chapter 4

**Whew! This one took me awhile to type, I'm sorry! Please enjoy. The next chapter might not be for another few days so I'm sorry.**

* * *

Marxs awoke with a start and a groan. It'd been almost three weeks since the fight in the rec room, and it's been the most fun the team had had in months. Last night though, might have topped even that night: They had beaten BLU thirtieth time in a row. In celebration, Demo was sent out to get some beer and ended up bringing three stores worth. That amount of alcohol plus eleven mercenaries, some of whom had no restraints, ended exactly as Jean predicted: Badly. Soon, everyone had drunk twice their weight in booze. Marxs himself couldn't remember what exactly what had transpired last night during the many hours of festivities, but he was sure he hadn't done anything he would regret. Marxs groaned quietly as he began to feel his hangover. Usually the young Merc wouldn't drink enough to get like this, but…you get thirty wins once. Rolling over in his bed, Marxs nearly jumped out of skin when he felt another human body next to his.

'Oh God, please don't let it be a man.' Was the first thought that shot through his brain.

Opening his eyes he was surprised to see a mass of brown hair in front of his face. Looking over his shoulder and around the room Marxs realized something quickly: This wasn't his room. Apparently, in his drunken state, he'd crashed in Rachel's room last night. With her in it. A sudden terrifying thought ran through his mind and he began feeling frantically to see if he had any clothes on. Finding his pants and T-shirt intact, he sighed in relief. Rolling out of bed, his body feeling as if it were made out of lead, the Merc walked to the door. Stumbling, Marxs paused for a moment to lean against the wall. He hated hangovers, so. Damn. Much. When the Rifleman was just about to move again however, a familiar feeling rose up in his throat. Gagging, he ran inside the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door. Opening the toilet lid, Marxs unloaded the contents of his stomach, coming up a few seconds later gasping for air.

"So I see zat I am not ze only one who is feeling unwell." A voice said from behind him.

"I'm not in the mood Jean," The hung over Rifleman said wiping his mouth, "You want to use the toilet? It may be a few minutes; I think I'm still puking up last week's lunch."

There was a gag from behind him, "No I don't think I will be using ze toilet." Jean's voice said tightly.

"Jean?"

"Oui?"

"I can't get up, my knees won't work."

"Mon Dieu…"

Marxs heard the shuffling of feet, and felt Jean's arm go around his torso, lifting him up gently. Pushing on the rim of the bowl, the young Mercenary stood up. Waving his friend away, he walked to door.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." Marxs said quietly, not wanting to cause any loud noises. Loud noises were bad, very bad.

Every step he took, his body resisted and even the small movements hurt. The hall itself seemed to be working against him, it felt like it was never going to end. Eventually though, after what seemed life forever, the hung over mercenary made it into the kitchen. Sitting down at the kitchen table, Marxs let his head down on the hard wood surface with an audible thud. As the Rifleman sat there, he struggled to remember what had occurred the night before. He recalled vaguely being with Bruce, Jean and Rachel, but that was about it. Another thing that stuck in his mind was shot glasses. Countless numbers of the stupid things. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of shuffling feet and a groan that was followed by a small belch.

"Oh, mon Dieu."

Marxs let out a small chuckle that he instantly regretted, finding it painful even to laugh. He heard the Frenchman slowly make his way into the kitchen, followed by the sound of cupboards opening and glasses clinking.

"I trust you used the toilet?" The face down Mercenary said smiling into the hard surface.

"Oui," Jean's voice said from Marxs' left side, "I also used the sink as well."

"Clean freak."

"Eet wasn't for washing."

"Oh."

The two were silent while the sound of water running, followed by the sound of a gentle fizz filled the air. Marxs sighed in reilief as he realized what his friend was making.

"'Ow are you feeling zis morning?" Jean said setting something down next to his young friend's hand.

"Like Heavy threw me into a wall, then the rest of the team danced on me." The young Merc said lifting his head finally, looking at Jean.

He looked awful: His tie was askew and loosened, his suit was wrinkled and unbuttoned and his eyes were bloodshot.

"To say I don't fell ze same would be a lie," The Spy muttered quietly, "Drink, it'll help."

Marxs nodded and took a small sip of the drink in front of him, "I'm having a hard time remembering what happened last night, could you remind me if your memory was any better?"

Jean chuckled, straightening his tie, "Well, eet started out as most of our celebrations did: With you, moi, and Bruce sitting where we are right now, talking about our recent domination."

"I vaugely remember that..."

"Well, we were later join by Miss Rachel and we began to talk about ze usual dribble: our homes, our families and so on."

"Continue." Marxs said taking another drink of his seltzer.

"Well, soon after we were approached by Demo man, who challenged us to a drinking game," Jean said pausing to light a cigarette, "Whoever could out drink him in shots won."

"So that's why I remember shot glasses..." Marxs said slowly, "Lot's...and lot's of shot glasses, how many did I drink?"

Jean closed his eyes in thought, "I believe the final score was thirty to ten...to you."

"Dear God," Marxs said chuckling, "What was I thinking?"

"You weren't."

"Yeah, I guess so."

The two chuckled lightly.

"What happened to Rachel during this whole thing?" Marxs asked, bringing his drink to three quarters empty.

"Well, when you were drooling out whiskey," Jean said smirking, "She offered to take you to bed, she herself was drunk so I'm surprised you didn't wake up in the hall."

"She's a good friend," The rifleman said grinning at the thought of her small frame dragging his larger one, "Loyal and hotheaded."

"Much like you, huh?" Jean said grinning in a knowing way, "She seems very fond of you."

"What-? No!" Marxs said instantly, "She views of me only as a friend."

"I don't think so mon ami," Jean said grinning wider, "I know when someone is smitten and believe me, that girl has feelings for you."

"Whatever mate," The English Merc said, attempting to change the subject, "What happened to Bruce in all of this?"

Jean answered by kicking hard under the table, making something beneath them groan.

"Aww...who the Fu-," Bruce said before groaning, "God, me 'ead."

"Morning Bruce," Marxs said prodding his friend gently with his foot, "Rise and shine."

"Piss off." Was all Bruce said before making his way slowly and painfully off the floor.

Marxs and Jean chuckled as their friend sat in the opposing them, letting his head fall with a thunk onto the table.

"How are _you _feeling this morning my Australian friend?" The English Merc said to the hungover Sniper.

Bruce let out a small grunt, leading to more quiet laughter from his friends. The three sat in silence fro a moment, during which Jean got up and began to make another drink for the Australian. Placing it down on the table next to his friend's hand Jean resumed his seat with a sigh.

"When do you think the others will be getting up?" Marxs asked casually, finishing his own drink.

Before either Mercenary could answer however, a huge bang came from the hallway, followed by a loud groan.

"Doctor!" Came a booming voice, making all three Mercenaries cringe, "Heavy's head hurts Doctor!"

"Eet ees ze hangover Heavy!" Came Medic's muffled voice, sounding more exasperated than anything else, "Eet ees vhat happens vhen you drink to much!"

"Dis I know doctor!" The massive Russian said irritably, "Heavy wants you to make it go away!"

"Ach! Give me a moment!"

There was the sound of distant rustling, followed by the sound of a door opening and the gentle hum of Medic's Medigun.

"Zere you are mein fruend!" Medic said, still out of sight from the three mercenaries still at the table, "All better-"

"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?!" Another voice said, "I'M TRYIN' TO GET SOME SLEEP!"

"Apologies Frau Femscout!"

"Yeah whatever, hey could you get rid of this headache for me Doc?"

The hum of the Medigun once again came from the hallway, followed by a sigh of relief from Rachel.

"That's it," Marxs said getting up, "I'm going to get rid of this damned hangover."

Walking down the hallway, the Rifleman passed Rachel, who turned and smiled at her friend. Grinning back, Marxs made his way towards the German doctor, his head pounding the entire way.

"Medic!" The Englishman said, smiling at his friend, "Could you get rid of this accursed hangover for me?

"Ja, of course!" Smirked the German, "I forgot to congratulate you on your stunning victory in ze drinking contest last night."

"Oh, shut up and heal me." Marxs said shaking his head and laughing.

Chuckling lightly, the Medic turned on the gun and aimed it at the younger man. Immediately the Rifleman felt his headache leave him, followed closely by the pain in his body. Beaming, Marxs flexed his hand and feeling no pain, proceeded to pat his older friend on the shoulder.

"Thanks mein freund," Marxs said using what little German he knew, "I appreciate it."

Bowing slightly, Medic walked back into his room, closing the door with a sharp snap behind him. Walking back down the hall, Marxs smiled as he saw Rachel sitting with Jean and Bruce, both of whom looked slightly annoyed at the fact that they were still suffering from the effects of last night.

"Jean, Bruce!" Marxs yelled, making his two friends flinch, "Go on and have Medic cure you instead of sitting on your arses."

Grumbling, the two got up and limped down the hall. Chuckling, the English Mercenary sat down in Bruce's seat across from Rachel.

"So Mister Shots," The Femscout said mischievously, "Felling better?"

Marxs laughed, "Immensely, you?"

"Yeah," Rachel said nodding, sipping at the soda in front of her, "I don't think I'll eva drink that much again."

"That's what I said when I drank six bottles of vodka while on a trip to Russia." The young mercenary said shuddering at the memory.

"Jesus, six?" Rachel said choking on her soda, laughing.

"Believe me, it wasn't funny at the time," Marxs said shaking his head, but still smiling, "It's sort of hard to kill Russian mobsters when you're hammered."

"Russian mob?" The Femscout said her eyes widening, "You speak Russian?"

"Konechno, ya govoryu na russkom." The Rifleman said smirking.

"Sexy," Rachel said, smiling in a suggestive way, "Got any other talents besides killing people and speaking Russian?"

The Englishman leaned back in his chair, face scrunched up in thought, "I can make a mean tea." He finally said, shrugging.

The female Merc threw her head back in laughter, "I guess that's somethin'." She said giggling still.

Marxs joined in the laughter. He didn't understand why he became so happy around her. Bruce and Jean might say it was because he cared for her, but they'd be wrong: He didn't fall for people. He couldn't. Then why did he feel this way around her? Why did he smile slightly at the mere mention of her name?

"Hey before I forget," Rachel said suddenly, breaking Marxs out of his thoughts, "I have something for you."

Marxs was take aback: Why did she get anything for him?

Reaching into her back pocket, his friend provided the answer for him: His beret.

"You forgot this is my room last night," She said smirking, but at the same tie turning red slightly, "You sort of threw it into a corner when I had you sleep with me."

Marxs didn't know what to say. He was sure his face was as red as an apple at the moment, and it didn't help that he couldn't speak at the moment. Taking his beloved hat from his friend and replacing it on his head, he mumbled his thanks and left the room, saying something about going for a smoke. Once outside Marxs began to laugh. To the untrained ear, it might have sounded insane and terrifying. But in fact it was giddy, happy. Marxs had never felt this way before, but he knew what the feeling was finally: Love. Marxs was for the first time in his life, was in love.


End file.
